Debts To Be Paid
by bulletproof trucker hats
Summary: We all know that Voldemort escaped Death.  But what if he didn't just escape the action of dying, but Mistress Death herself?  And what if she got her boss to send our favorite Tentai to retrieve him?  One-shot, YYH HP crossover


The two armies squared off- Voldemort's forces against Hogwart's. The Dark Lord raised his wand, confident in his ability to completely obliterate them, and…

"OI! WHICH OF YOU IS VOLDERWART?"

Four new figures appeared directly in the middle of the soon-to-be war zone: A tall, ugly, red-head, a shorter, much more attractive one, the dark-haired boy who had so _rudely_ slaughtered his name, and the shortest, who possessed gravity-defying black hair, with a starburst of white at the middle of it.

"It's _Voldemort_, Urameshi!" the ugly red-head corrected, smug. "Shows how smart _you_ are."

The now-identifiable 'Urameshi' turned to snarl at the other male. "Screw. You. Kuwabara." The two looked about ready to go at each other's throats, when the other red-head stepped forward.

"Children, please. We have a job to do, remember?" He turned to face the rather shocked wizards. "As my associate so _crudely_ put it, which of you is the Dark…ah…_Lord_?" He put a strange emphasis on the last word. Voldemort would have called it _mocking_, if he didn't know better.

The shortest of the group snorted.

Voldemort stepped forward. "I am he." he said cockily. "Who are you, and who do you fight for?"

The speaker smiled, a rather mischievous glint in his eyes. "You may call me Kurama. He-" Here, he gestured at the shortest. "-is Hiei. And _they_ are Yusuke Urameshi and Kazuma Kuwabara." He indicated the dark-haired boy and the ugly red-head, in turn.

"Unfortunately, we are not here to fight for those who reside in the castle-" Kurama was cut off by loud, raucous cheers from the ranks of the Death Eaters, and gasps from within the walls of Hogwarts. He waited patiently for them to finish before continuing. "-and neither shall we fight for _you_." This statement was met with silence, which Kurama took as permission to continue, uninterrupted. "We are here for our own mission, and any who get in our way shall die."

More silence, and then, Voldemort's chilling laugh. "Kill them." he ordered.

Countless streams of green light were immediately fired from the Death Eater side of the not-yet battlefield.

Kurama raised both an eyebrow and a hand, and almost as quickly as the Death Eaters had rushed to kill them, the grass around the four shot up to higher than head-level, to form a shield.

At the same time as _that_ was going on, a black blur shot through the ranks, leaving a trail of death, blood, and screams of pain, from any Death Eater who had cast an _Avada Kedavra_, and quite a few who had not.

The grass shrunk back down, revealing the four targets to be completely unharmed, and distinctly unimpressed by the failed display of power.

Voldemort took in the carnage, as well as the calm, knowing smirk on Kurama's face, and what looked suspiciously like blood on the bare blade of Hiei's sword, and quickly revised his plan.

"You are _powerful_." he said, careful not to make it seem as if they were _more_ powerful then, oh, say…_him_. Which they, without a doubt, _were_. Best to get them under his control _fast_, then. "Wouldn't you have much to gain from joining my ranks?"

Another detersive snort from the one called 'Hiei'. "You said it yourself, _ningen_." The shortest member of the strange group spoke for the first time. "We are _powerful_. What _need_ have we to join your ranks? What could _you_, a _ningen_, possibly hope to offer _us_?"

A fleeting thought crossed the Dark Lord's mind. 'What _are_ they?' Voldemort, skilled in Occulumency, as he was, was _certain_ no one was eavesdropping on his thoughts.

And yet…Hiei _laughed_, and responded, as if he _could_ hear them. "You _already_ know what we _are_, you _stupid_ ningen." "Or, perhaps he's forgotten." Kurama suggested brightly. "Shall I share a story, _Lord_ Voldemort? I'm sure you know it well." Voldemort was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of foreboding, but Kurama continued. "It's of a soul of a soulless man named Tom Riddle, and how he fell into the Makai."

Voldemort turned, if it was even _possible_, paler. "Demon." he whispered.

Kurama's smirk, if was even _possible_, widened and turned even _more_ mischievous than it already was. "Actually, we prefer _youkai_. Too many negative connotations with 'demon', you see." he said, in a conversational tone. "And only Hiei and myself are. Oh, and about half of Yusuke."

"And 'sides, " Yusuke said, putting his two cents in. "We're not on a mission from _Makai_."

"Oh, yes, there's that, as well." Kurama agreed. "It's _Reikai_ that's sent us here, Riddle-san." The look in his eyes turned cold and deadly, though the smirk remained. "You see, Riddle-san, there are very_ strict_ rules about cheating Mistress Death-" ("Stupid, blue-haired, bimbo that she is." Yusuke muttered. "That's no way to speak about a lady! I, the great Kazuma Kuwabara, will defend Boton's honor!" "Shut _up_, fools." Hiei hissed.) "-and there are _consequences_ that come from breaking them."

"What kind of…_consequences_?" the Dark Lord managed to ask.

_Finally_, Kurama dropped the knowing smirk, as his eyes flashed amber. "Deadly ones." he said, in a conversational tone, as, once again, he raised his hands.

When asked later, all anyone could say was that it seemed like the Forbidden Forest had suddenly decided that it was a sentient creature, that had an apparent hatred for the self-proclaimed Dark Lord.

Try as he might- and oh, did he _try_- Voldemort couldn't _possibly_ evade all the seeking tendrils of the Forest, and soon, he was trapped, trussed like a turkey at Thanksgiving.

Kurama and Yusuke approached the disabled Dark Lord. "Detective, you have the honors." the red-head offered. Yusuke snorted. "Hell no, Kurama." he said. "There's a _helluva _fight going on out there, and I want in on it."

Kurama sighed. "As you wish." he said in defeat. "Who am I to deny a Toushin a fight?" Yusuke smirked. "Damn _straight_, Kurama." he said, heading back out of the Forest. "Have fun."

Kurama grinned at Voldemort, baring inhuman canines. "Oh, I _intend_ to." he told the Dark Lord. "It's been _far_ too long since Koenma or Shuiichi have given me free reign." Even threatened with death, Voldemort managed to notice that the boy's red hair was being liberally streaked with silver, as if with an invisible paintbrush.

Those merciless gold eyes turned back on him. "But, I don't quite think I want to be on the same level as you and your ilk, Riddle-san…" he said, contemplatively. "…so…_die_."

And, just like that, the terror of the Wizarding World died quickly- though in much pain. Youko's pride as a merciless kitsune bandit demanded nothing less. And, so, Voldemort died a completely ignoble death at the vines of the Vetch.

As the last remnant of his tattered soul fled his body, there a sense of total detachment…

Which lasted all of two minutes, when he was confronted with a blue-haired young woman, flying on a…was that an _oar_?…yes, that was an oar. The unfamiliar female approached him. "Hello!" she said cheerfully. "My name's Boton, and I'll be your guide to…Oh, it's _you_." The look in her eyes was rather intimidating, not that Voldemort would ever admit it to anyone.

But, then again, he's dead now, and who's he going to tell?

"You would not _believe_ the amount of trouble we went through for _you_." she said.

Back down with the living, the battle between the _huge_ Dark army and the _four_ Tentai was winding up.

You really had to feel sorry for them.

The army, that is.

"Oi, Kurama, you done?" Yusuke yelled. "We're leaving." Kurama, hair now _completely_ silver, emerged from the Forest, and turned towards the castle. "Forgive us for intruding, ningen." he said politely, bowing. "You can get back to your war now."

And, just like that, they were _gone_, as quickly as they had appeared.

The entirety of the assembled wizards- those not completely slaughtered, that is- blinked in collective confusion, until the voice of one Ronald Weasely broke the silence, and summed up what was on all their minds.

"_What_ the bloody _hell_ was _that?"_


End file.
